


Golly Sandra

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: (not really - more like footsie but I want to use that tag at least once), (omg these tags I can't), Foot Fetish, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Reita is 100 percent done, True Love's Kiss, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Uruha is Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Uruha has fancy footwork and Kai is oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golly Sandra

It had been three days since Uruha yanked Kai by the collar and smashed their lips together. 

Seventy-two hours. 

Four-thousand-three-hundred-and-twenty minutes. 

Two-hundred-fifty-nine-thousand-and-two-hundred seconds. 

Basically, it had been _forever_.    

Uruha felt his eyebrow twitch at the thought, hands fiddling with the pen in front of him.  It wasn’t like the two were avoiding each other – though the guitarist was getting increasingly suspicious as Kai seemed to be conveniently busy from the moment they parted for air. 

Uruha’s black-nailed fingers traced the contours of the pen, clicking it experimentally as thoughts persistently plagued him.  Alright, so maybe Kai had looked more _scandalized_ than _appreciative_ after their impromptu smooch…  But Uruha was almost positive the drummer had been asking for it.  The elder had been furtively glancing at him with cow eyes all through practice, not to mention Kai had _accidentally_ brushed against him as they were leaving the studio.

Uruha wasn’t one for pussyfooting.  It was an awkward word.  Therefore, he avoided it much as possible.

So, he took the liberty of speeding things up.  With his mouth.

It wasn’t his fault that afterwards, in the attempt to escape, Kai had unceremoniously toppled into the make-up assistant who then bumped into one of the roadies who subsequently lurched forward – knocking Ruki’s much coveted morning coffee from his small hands and onto his new fleece jacket.

The blond winced, thumb pausing from clicking his pen, remembering the screams.  A contented smile founds its way to his lips, though, in memory of Kai’s flustered stuttering and wild hand gestures.  _So cute._  

All in all, Uruha had deemed the experience a success.

But now, after three days of virtual ice age in his loins, Uruha came to the conclusion that maybe Kai was the pine-from-afar-whilst-playing-hard-to-get type.  He told Reita as much, who had seen the whole calamity, and the bassist was less than convinced.

_“Maybe he’s more of the ‘I-don’t-want-to-be-randomly-molested-by-my-friends’ type.”_

Reita obviously did not know the ways of wooing. 

Uruha clicked his pen again with a small nod.  Fortunately, another opportunity had presented itself; something Kai couldn’t run away with an excuse from.  The band was currently seated around an oval table for their weekly meeting with management.  Uruha had subtly snatched the seat across from Kai – well, if bowling over Aoi to get to the chair was subtle – who had been in a deep discussion with Sakai on his left.  The lead guitarist had brushed off Aoi’s glare and Reita’s exasperated eye-roll, and tried to contain the leer that was begging to be released as tried to catch the drummer’s eye.

He was going to be subtle – obviously Kai spooked easily, so what other option was there?

So here he sat, squeezed between Ruki (who was doodling something suspicious on his memos) and Aoi (who was nursing his cup of coffee like the apocalypse was nigh), while trying to send a morse code message to Kai with his pen. 

_Click.  Cli-click.  Click-click-click-click-click-click –  
_ _Hey.  Hey, Kai-kun.  Lookatmelookatmelookatme –_

Ruki snatched the pen away with a vicious snarl.

“I will fucking ram this pen all the way up your fucking – !”

“ – Let’s start, shall we?” One of the managers hastily cut off the vocalist's graphic and thoroughly descriptive tirade.

As the meeting began, the monotonous drawl from representatives of the company wafting over them, Uruha felt himself promptly zone out and begin to slouch.  He pursed his lips, slightly miffed that his discreet tactic of pen-code was thwarted.  He was quickly losing Kai – the dimpled man pointedly ignoring his lustful gazes in favor of _actually listening_ to management’s drivel. 

Well.  Uruha couldn’t have that.

Propping his elbows on the table, the blond pushed himself against the table as much as he could and quietly pulled off his right shoe.  With his hooded eyes trained on Kai, he slowly, slowly reached forward with a socked foot.  He began with merely nudging the other’s shoe with his own; little pushes and taps.  A stroke against the drummer’s sole, a caress of an ankle. 

Nothing.  Not a flicker of recognition in Kai’s concentrated visage.

Well, fine.  If he wanted to play _that_ way…

Uruha reached further, languidly dragging his foot up the other’s leg – toes curling against the underside of a jeaned calf.  He let his foot slide around to the front, toes resting atop Kai’s kneecap.  Uruha’s arch fit perfectly against the bone and the guitarist had to stifle a little sigh.  
  
Kai continued to play oblivious, but the blond was sure he saw his jaw tighten.  He smirked, head resting in his hands as his elbows grounded into the table with mischievous mirth.

Lifting his socked foot, he allowed his big toe to trace sloppy circles on the kneecap.  Little loops, triangles and hearts.  His foot then dragged down, down, down the length of Kai’s calf before he quickly slid it up to stop on the inside of his thigh.

Uruha was _positive_ he heard a fluttering gasp.  Kai was going to have to teach him how to hold such a convincing poker face.  The bastard was fucking headstrong, that was for sure.  Uruha could feel his gaze smolder with _come-hither_.  He should have known – Kai was _Leader-sama_ , after all.  He felt his own cheeks flushing with _want-want-want_ with every chafe and rub.  He wanted to _tear off_ his socks, Kai’s jeans, everything, so their skin could ignite-spark-crackle together. 

The guitarist swallowed a mewl, biting his plush lip and slinking his foot further, further, until –

“Um, Uruha-san?” A choked whisper from Kai’s left, “That’s a bit, ah, distracting…”

Uruha froze, breath catching, foot hovering centimeters away from Kai’s crotch.

Well, what he _thought_ was Kai’s crotch.

His eyes, infinitely wide and terrified, met the traumatized stare of Sakai.


End file.
